An Artist's Sketch
by Canadaindy
Summary: The BMFM finds a retreat where they are welcome. A place where they served best hot dogs and cold root beer. Throttle meets a rider, an artist. Except Limburger has interests in her for unknown reasons. Will Throttle be able to figure out why and save her. Rated M for language and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The Biker Mice from Mars pulled up to the Last Chance Garage as the Limburger's tower tumbled to the ground once again, defeating Limburger's plans.

"Let's go and grab Charley to celebrate," Vinnie suggested.

The garage was open with a car sitting on the high rack and a motorcycle parked inside, all waiting for their turn. There was another bike in pieces tucked away in the corner at the back of her shop. Charley had her back turned to them, searching through her cabinets when the mice pulled up.

"Hey, sweetheart," Vinnie called out to her, making her cringe. She turned around, wearing dark sunglasses and holding a small white plastic bottle in her hands.

"Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?" he asked.

"I have a migraine," she explained. Throttle noticed Vinnie looking at him, where he shrugged his shoulders at him. He didn't know what a migraine was.

"It's a really bad headache," she said, struggling with the small bottle.

"We came here to see if you are up for some celebrating. Limburger won't be bothering us for some time," Throttle said. Charley looked at him, almost glaring through her dark glasses.

"I can't, I have too much work to do. Why can't I get this damn thing open," she said, almost screaming in frustration. She threw the bottle across the room where Vinnie caught it in mid-air.

Throttle was taken aback, Charley had never lost her temper like that before. Vinnie opened the bottle with ease, handing it to her. She took the bottle, heading over to the sink. Throttle looked at the cars and bikes that needed to be fixed.

She was right, she had a lot of work to do and from the way she was holding herself, she was hurting. She had never shown her pain before; she was always that tough girl who could handle whatever the world threw at her. Until now.

The mice dismounted from their bikes. The brown mouse looked at his brothers, where he knew that they were thinking the same thing. They began working, helping her with her workload.

He watched Vinnie picking up the air drill and started working when suddenly he heard a glass breaking over where Charley was.

"Damn it," she cursed. He watched her lean over the sink, taking a drink from the running tap. Vinnie continued with his drill.

"What are you doing?" she called out, rubbing her temples and leaning against the table.

"We thought we could help you out," Throttle suggested. Normally, he knew that she would appreciate the help, but by the way she looked, today wasn't going to be that day.

"No, I want you -" she started to say when Vinnie started up on the drill again.

"Vincent van Wham, if you do not put down that drill right now, I swear to God, I'm going to kill you," she said in a low voice.

All of the mice stopped working, looking at her. Charley had never threatened them like that. Her threats were always harmless like painting their bike pink or decorating their helmets with glitter.

"Are you alright, Charley-girl?" Throttle asked her in his low husky voice.

"I have a really bad headache which lights and loud noises are making worse. Please, leave now," she said.

"We can be quiet," Vinnie said as he walked up to her.

Throttle knew that despite Vinnie was trying to be helpful, he somehow crossed the line with her. She grabbed him by his white ear, dragging him along as she walked out of the garage.

"Owe, owe," he said, trying to keep up with her pace.

"All of you out," she said. She let go of him once they were outside.

Both Throttle and Modo soon followed them, fearful that she was going to do the same thing to them. Charley shut the door as she went inside, leaving the mice standing there dumbfounded.

"Whoa, she really meant it," Modo commented.

"Yeah, I'm sure once her migraine is gone, she will be in a better mood," Throttle commented, yet not really sure himself. Did they really go too far with her?

"So now what?" Vinnie asked, still rubbing his ear. The mice climbed on their bikes and drove away.

They tossed a few ideas to each other as they drove around the city trying to figure out what to do. "We could grab a couple of hot dogs and watch a game at our place," Vinnie offered.

The lights at the end of the street turned red to which the mice stopped. Throttle let out a sigh, not really excited about it. He had lost track of how many times they had done that. He wanted to do something other than watching a game.

"Or we could go here," Modo said and pointed over to an electric store beside them. The window had stacks of TVs, all showing the same commercial. Despite that they couldn't hear it, the commercial showed bikers driving around a racetrack, drivers from old to young, boy to girl.

"Dude, they even have hot dogs," Vinnie exclaimed, slapping Throttle's back when he saw a hot dog stand there. He almost fell off his bike, but managed to regain his balance on his bike. "Riddick's Rides" appeared on the screen before the commercial ended.

A car horn blared at the bikers where they realized that the light was already green. They turned onto a side street, away from the main road.

"Oh man, we got to check out that place, "Vinnie said excitedly.

"I'm with you bro," Throttle said. "Let's rock and ride."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**I didn't realize it until it was too late after I posted the first chapter, that I forgotten to post a disclaimer and gives thanks to Lohis for being my beta. It has been awhile since I last posted a story.**

**So I apologized for not doing the disclaimer in the first chapter. However I still do not own any characters from Biker Mice From Mars. And my thanks to Lohis for being my beta. **

**Read and enjoy.**

This was the perfect race track for the mice. The oval shaped tracks were divided into 3 lines with all types of bikers. The scent of hot dogs filled their nostrils. It took them only mere moments to follow the delicious scent with their eyes, finding the hot dog booth at the far end with several benches for people to enjoy their meals. The bleachers stood against the opposite side with stairs leading up to an office with a couple of people sitting, watching and talking.

"Sweet mother of heaven," Modo finally sighed. The mice were about to ride in when an elderly man with a heavy cane stepped in front of them. He had grey hairs sticking out his baseball cap. He adjusted his black thick glasses on his nose as if he was inspecting them.

"Can I help you lads?" he said in a loud voice over their bikes.

Throttle studied him wondering if they were going to be welcome or not. Despite the numerous times that they had save Chicago and planet Earth, there were some people who were afraid of them or even prejudiced against them. And this old man might be one of them.

He was about to answer when Vinnie said, "We were hoping to do a couple of burn outs on the tracks."

The old man raised his bushy grey eyebrows at them. "No, you may not," he said firmly.

Throttle could see Modo's eye starting to glow red. "Modo," he warned. It wasn't the fact that he was afraid of getting into fights. Except there were some fights that Charley had to bail them out afterward. Now with her being sick and furious at them, they couldn't risk it.

"Well bros, let's go home. We know that we are not welcome."

They turned their bikes around to leave when Throttle felt a harder shove on the back of his shoulder. He was about to yell at Vinnie, but realized that the white mouse was in front of him. He turned around, seeing the old man leaning on his cane, realizing that it was him.

"Young man, I never said that you guys were not welcome. I said that you are not allowed to do a couple of burn outs or any fancy tricks, not today. You are more than welcome to my tracks if you agree to follow a few rules."

"Your tracks, but aren't you a little too old to be riding . . . owe!" Vinnie said before Throttle gave him a hard kick.

"I apologized for Vinnie, sometimes his mouth goes faster than his brain," he said.

"That is if he even has a brain," Modo joked before bursting into laughter.

Throttle turned his bike around, ignoring them for now. "I'm Throttle, this is Vinnie and that's Modo," he said, introducing himself and his brothers.

The old mad nodded to them, and said, "I'm Willie Riddick, owner of this place. I offer a place for every biker to join, drive around and have fun. You do have to pay for admittance." He pointed to the booth beside them.

"All I ask is that everyone here shows respect to the other bikes and take care of the beginners. As you can probably tell, I have a few bikers that you can see are inexperienced," he explained, pointing them out, by the way they wobbled on their bikes, or how much padding they were wearing. They really stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other riders.

"So if you come in here, doing fancy and dangerous tricks," he said, emphasizing on the word, "dangerous".

"It may give some of these yahoos a brilliant idea that they can do those as well." Throttle nodded, it made perfect sense to him.

"I do however host nights where I invite the experienced bikers to show off their skills which I hope that you can be one of. I've seen how you can ride on the TV."

From the corner of his eyes, Throttle could see Vinnie's head beginning to swell. He knew that he was never going to hear the end of it from that mouse for the next day or two.

"Willie," someone called him from his concession stand.

"I got to go, enjoy your rides."

"Bro, he wants to see me ride, perfect my smooth moves," Vinnie said as he straightened up, almost picturing himself.

Throttle rolled his eyes and let out a breath. Oh yeah, two days for sure, he thought to himself.

"Oh boy," Modo said, shaking his head.

"Here is the big question, does anyone of us have any money?"

"I might," Throttle said, pulling out a debit card. He looked at the thin piece of plastic in his hand. They were still trying to figure out this whole money system that Earth had. Everything could be traded with green slips of paper or this piece of plastic being swiped through a machine.

Granted with Limburger's attempts of the destruction of Chicago, their understanding was always pushed aside until the fish face was dealt with.

With him and his brothers helping Charley at her shop, she didn't have to hire extra mechanics. And she was able to save some money that she used to buy them supplies that they needed for their bikes and their hideout. Despite the fact that their constant roughhousing kept destroying some of their furniture. The mice didn't really understand the concept of this whole money thing. And quite honestly, it really frustrated Charley after going to all of the thrift stores and garage sales to find them furniture for it only to be destroyed in a day.

So Charley decided the only way that they would learn was to actually have it. She set up a bank account for them, depositing a couple of hundred dollars every month. She would still pay for their food and help them out with their bikes. But everything else, they were responsible for.

They had a few rough starts, realizing that once the money was spent, there was not going to be any more money until the next month, no matter how much sweet talk they tried. The rough housing still continued, but now they were more careful around the furniture and tried to fix what they damaged.

Then they quickly found out that if they kept track of what they spent, they were able to save some of their allowance, each month. And with that money, they wanted to use it to buy something nice for Charley. Except, they had no idea what she wanted or liked.

After a few laps around the tracks, the boys sat on their bikes, enjoying their hot dogs. Vinnie let out a loud burp which caused some snickering from other people nearby.

"Smooth, Vinnie," Throttle said.

"I'll try," he replied, obviously not getting that Throttle was being sarcastic.

"Next time, we should bring Charley, she would love this," Modo said.

Throttle nodded, "I think she might know about this place."

Once the mice were finished with their meals, they were back on the tracks, riding around and having fun. They were pleasantly surprised that everyone was nice or even in awe with them. Which no doubt made Vinnie's ego even bigger than before. But they were welcome. They realized that they all shared the same thing, their love of the bike and the open road.

"Ok, you need to lean to the side when you turn," Modo instructed as he demonstrated on his bike to a couple of newbie riders.

Vinnie drove past the grey mouse with a couple of riders as he bragged about his races back home.

Fortunately, with his sunglasses, no one could see Throttle as he rolled his eyes once again as he helped fix a bike for one rider. He taped up a hose that was leaking.

"This will hold until you can get it replaced," he said. He pulled out one of Last Chance Garage's business cards and gave it to the person, "This is a good garage, Charley can help you there," he said.

"Yo bros, Charley's here," Vinnie hollered out.

Throttle was already putting his tools away when he saw a woman pulling up to the admittance booth. She wore a black leather jacket that was zipped up to protect her from the cold, blue jeans, and black laced up boots.

Her black helmet had silver and white feathers painted as if this was an eagle's head. But the black shield was in place for its eyes and beak. The shield also covered her face. She rode on a black motorcycle with silver chrome and high handlebars. It looked like one of the bikes Charley had at the garage. She was the right height and built as Charley.

By then, both Modo and Vinnie joined their leader, watching. "Huh, her migraine must be gone," Throttle commented.

The driver unzipped her jacket, pulling out a pass, showing it to the girl inside the booth.

"She knew about this place, and didn't tell us," Vinnie said as he pouted, crossing his arms in front of himself.

"She wouldn't keep that from us, would she?" Modo asked.

Throttle shrugged his shoulders, "Maybe, she has lived in Chicago longer than us," he offered as he watched her driving onto the tracks.

She waved to the other drivers that were standing there in a group. One of the girls there, pointed at them, leaning closer to Charley, as if she was whispering something to her. She looked at the smiling mice and waved at them.

They waved back where the rider turned her attention back to the group. The mice all watched them.

"I think she is still mad at us, bros," Modo said, after watching them. Throttle watched the group talking for a few more moments before riding onto the tracks.

It would make sense how Charley would find them. There weren't many places for the Bikers Mice from Mars to go where they were accepted openly and warmly. If they didn't find out about this place, they would either be riding around the city or be at their place. Except why would she keep this from them?

As she rode past them, the mice waved at her again, all smiling at her. She nodded back at them; continued to drive on, not even slowing down.

"Why isn't she stopping?" Vinnie asked.

"She could still be mad at us," Throttle said which sounded reasonable. Vinnie instinctively touched his ear that she had grabbed earlier.

"Come on, let's go," he said as he climbed on his bike. He knew that they could either go and try to talk to her or stand there, waving to her, looking like fools.

All of them tried to talk to her, when they rode past her. But all she would do was to tap on the side of her helmet where her ears were. They would tap on their helmets as well, not understanding what she meant.

She would then increase her speed and ride past them, weaving through the other riders.

Throttle noticed that Mr. Riddick was standing by the tracks. He started waving a black bandana, then pointing to the woman. She drove off of the tracks, meeting up with Mr. Riddick.

The mice parked their bikes on the opposite side of the tracks, watching them. Her back was against them as she parked her bike, but not turning off her bike. She lifted her face shield, but the Biker mice still couldn't see her face.

They watched them interacting with each other. Mr. Riddick pulled out a small pad and started writing something down before showing it to her. She read it and then jotted something and handed it back to him. They continued to do so.

"Bros, she couldn't hear us. That was what she meant," Throttle explained, imitating her movements earlier.

"Since when hasn't she been able to hear us?" Modo asked. This was a perplexing mystery for the mice. It was one thing to be mad at them, but another to pretend that she was hard of hearing. Unless it was something that human beings did, Throttle really didn't understand what was going on with Charley.

They watched them passing notes to each other. Throttle let out a sigh, straightening out his back.

"Let's leave them be, we can talk to her later," he offered. "If Charley is still mad at us, we can't do anything until she cools off."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter #3**

**I do not own Biker Mice from Mars. And my thanks to Lohis for being my beta reader.**

**Please read and enjoy.**

It was nearly lunchtime when the Biker Mice pulled up at the Last Chance Garage. The doors were open; they could hear Charley humming to one of the songs that was playing on the radio. They hoped that she was in a better mood now.

The mice were not able to get their chance to speak to Charley again last night. Mr. Riddick ended up talking to them, arranging for them to do a show. Which lead to Vinnie telling him about his glory days of racing. It took both Throttle and Modo to physically cover his mouth, to be able to shut him up. By the time they were done, she was gone.

"Come on, you stupid piece of," they heard her muttering. Or maybe she was still in a bad mood, assuming from her cursing. They rolled their bikes inside, cautiously, seeing Charley hunched over with her foot set on an engine for leverage as she tried to loosen a stubborn bolt.

"You need some help, Charley-madam?" Modo asked calmly.

She turned around, standing up. "Oh hey guys, listen, I'm really sorry how I acted yesterday. Vinnie, I should have never pulled on your ear like that." she apologized.

"Well that is ok, I guess I should have realized that the drill wasn't helping with your migraine." he said.

"What is that smell?" she asked.

"We brought you some lunch." Throttle said, showing her hot dogs nestled inside a take-out box.

"And we also brought root beer and these." Vinnie announced, handing her a bouquet of red and white carnations.

"Thank you." she said, smiling, noticing a card that was tucked inside the flowers.

She pulled it out to read it, "_Please forgive us_. Forgive you for what?" Throttle could easily see Charley bracing herself for something bad.

"For what we had done that made you give us the cold shoulder at the tracks last night." Vinnie explained. Charley looked at the mice, completely confused.

Meanwhile Throttle spotted an empty coffee tin on the table with a few screws inside. He dumped them onto the table, arranging them neatly in a pile before heading over to the sink. He returned to the group with the tin filled up with water. He pushed the tools to one side, giving room for the tin.

She smiled at him, dropping the flowers in. "Ok, hold up for a second, what track? What are you talking about?"

"After we left your place, we found this place, Riddick's Rides which is a place for riders to ride their bikes. Sweetheart, we were welcome. I had people in awe of my stories of racing. Modo even taught a few riders how to ride and Throttle was able to fix up a couple of bikes. Even Mr. Riddick wanted us to do a show. Imagine all of the ladies setting their eyes on my smooth moves." Vinnie said excitedly as he was starting to jump around, almost knocking one of her tables over.

"Then you showed up, riding this bike." Vinnie explained, pointing to the exact same bike which was now in pieces all over one of her workbenches.

"You had a pass to this place and then drove on the tracks; we thought you were still mad at us, because you were ignoring us and doing this." Vinnie then tapped on his ear like the rider had done yesterday.

"Even Mr. Riddick had to write notes to you, you know, to be able to talk to you." By then Vinnie got all excited again, bouncing up and down.

She rubbed her face, "Ok, I'm switching to decaf for him." she quietly mumbled to herself under her breath, which Throttle was able to hear, causing him to smile, but it quickly changed when he feared that Vinnie was going to give her another migraine.

"Vinnie." he interrupted. "I think Charley gets it."

"Ok, first of all, I'm going to get you some books on the human anatomy so you can have a better understanding of what exactly a migraine is. Because I can tell you right now, it wasn't me yesterday. After I threw you out, I closed up the shop and went straight to bed. I didn't get up until 6 am this morning." The mice were silent, trying to understand what she was saying.

"Guys, think about this. My migraine miraculously went away and I put together this bike." she explained, going over to the bike on her workbench.

"I've been waiting on a part that has been backlogged. This bike is not going to be fixed for another week if I'm lucky." The mice looked at the bike; there was no way that this bike could be put together in a couple of hours.

"Why would I take this all apart again? And I pretended to be deaf to avoid you? I thought that I already proved to you that I can take care of myself out there." she said, with her voice hinting anger.

Modo stepped in front of her. "You have proven to us, Charley-madam. We honestly thought that what you, err . . . I mean the other biker, did last night is what humans do when they are mad." he said in a soothing voice, tapping his ear.

Her anger quickly faded away where she let out a deep breath and looked down at the flowers. She smiled, gently touching the leaf of one of the flowers.

"I have heard about Riddick's Rides." Charley admitted quietly.

"So why haven't you told us about it?" Vinnie asked.

"Despite that you three guys drive me crazy and there have been times where I fantasized about painting your bikes pink…" The mice shivered at her fantasy while their bikes rived up in protest.

"But I care about you three goofballs. I wanted to first be sure if that place was safe for you or not."

"Charley-madam, we can handle ourselves." Modo boasted, flexing his muscles.

"Except I heard that the Limburger's goon squad has been there."

Suddenly Modo's eye started glowing red. "Limburger," he growled, almost ready to hit something.

"Wait a minute bro." Throttle warned, not wanting to ruin Charley's good mood. "Let's hear about the rumor first."

"This is why I didn't tell you about it. I wasn't sure and I didn't want you to go causing trouble where I would had to bail you out of jail, again. I heard a gang with brightly colored hair came by, drove around and then left. They didn't cause any problems or anything like that. I can't be positive if they worked for Limburger or not. They could have easily been somebody else." She answered.

"Charley does have a point." Throttle pointed out. The big grey mouse calmed down.

Throttle realized that she was right. She would have just given them the cold shoulder. And kept the tracks to herself until she knew that they were going to be safe. But if that wasn't her riding that bike yesterday, then who was that girl? And why did she intrigue him so much?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter #4**

**I do not the characters from the show and my thanks to Lohlis for being my beta. Please enjoy.**

It was a week later when a pretty young woman was dressed in old jeans and an old shirt which was splattered with old paint. Her black hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. She searched through the drawers of a table that her printer sat on neatly, waiting to print.

"It's in the first drawer," her brother with light brown hair, dressed in dark slacks and a white dressed shirt said, not really paying any attention to his older sister.

"No, Bryan, I'm looking for the color paper. I thought that we had that bright neon paper."

He raised his eyebrows up at her, "Why would I have that? I can't use them for tax returns to my clients or the government. They are going to think that I'm nuts."

"It does run in the family," she commented wryly. He let out a long sigh, setting his report down, knowing that he wasn't going to get any peace until she found what she was looking for.

"There should be some blue paper in that drawer, probably at the bottom. And don't mess with them, I have a system." She snorted, pulling out the drawer.

"A-ha." she said, pulling out a couple of sheets of paper. "You even have pink." She went over to her brother who was still sitting at his desk.

"Now what?" he said, turning his chair around to face her again.

"Markers." she replied, pointing to some that were in his old coffee cup on his desk. He picked some out, handing them to her.

"Anything else?"

She shook her head no.

"Great, now go. I want to get this done before tonight." he said, shooing her away with his hands. "And close the door." he called out as she walked out of his office.

Out in their living room stood a painting over the mantle. The painting was of a little girl sitting on a park bench, blowing a dandelion with a trail of white fluffy seeds floating in the air. She sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table and began to work.

It was a short time later when her brother emerged from his office, holding his coffee cup, needing a refill. "Hey Danny." he called out.

"Yeah." she answered in her art studio that was on the other side of the kitchen.

"Why does . . . " he started to say when he saw the painting covered in yellow caution tape and those sheets of paper taped beside it with big capital lettering spelling out, _No, not for sale _along with big black arrows pointing to it.

"Why does what?" she said, coming out of her studio.

"Well actually, first, why is that covered? And why doesn't Monica want you here when she comes to pick up your paintings?"

Danny answered: "According to her:" She paused then imitated her agent's British accent, "Darling, you are always too hard on yourself when it comes to picking out your paintings."

"Which you are," he pointed out.

"Which we always ended up arguing over. So she said that if I really wanted to be in this exhibition tonight, the one where I might actually sell some of my pieces, I have to let her pick out the paintings and not be in the house when she does."

She pointed to the covered painting. "She is not getting that painting. And right now, it is securely attached to the wall and there is no place to hide it." He nodded.

"I'm more worried if she picks out these dark paintings, the ones that I can't really explain."

"Simple, we can hide a few of them in my office." he suggested.

After a few of her paintings were well hidden, Danny went back to her art studio that was formally the sun room of the house. Her studio was completely clean with white panel walls. There were narrow paned windows that allow the sun in on two of the walls. Her easel and stool sat in the corner, getting the most of the light. The metal tray that held her palette and glass jar that held her water, stood empty and another jar sat beside it filled with different paint brushes, the whole configuration parked up against a wall.

Danny set her finished paintings on the floor, leaning them against the wall. Beside the entrance of her studio, there was an old dining table that she had bought at a flea market that sat against the main wall. Several of her sketchbooks that were neatly labeled on their spines were standing upright, between two jars which were pulling double duty as book ends and as storage pots for her painting supplies. There were also small plastic containers filled with her paint tubes neatly arranged on the table, ready for her to use. Underneath the table hide a couple of Rubbermaid totes that were also neatly labeled with her other paint supplies.

The only bad part of this room was that it lacked a closet. She was able to pick up metal shelves from a hardware store that were parked between the windows. The shelves had her empty frames, rolls of canvas, extra art supplies and props for her paintings.

She fluffed up a pillow before setting it back on the futon that sat underneath the window, giving her studio the once over. Her agent Monica was going to be arriving in a couple of hours.

Danny knew that she could sit here and drive herself crazy or start prepping up some canvas, getting them ready for her future paintings. She unrolled her canvas, laying it on the floor, smoothing out the creases. She then set up a couple of frames on top, making sure that she had enough. She pulled out her exacto knife, ready to cut.

_"Hey, where did you go?" she heard one of the orderly called out. She pulled through the metal door, only to find__herself in a morgue. Fortunately there was nobody there. She could hear them coming down the hall._

_She searched frantically for anything that the doctors left behind, something to defend herself. She turned around, nearly knocking over a tray. She managed to catch it before it fell to the floor, except some of the tools that sat on the tray landed on the floor, making a loud crash._

_"Shit." she cursed. Quickly scanning the room for another exit, but the only one she saw was the emergency exit which would set off the alarm._

_Knowing that her time was up soon, she had no choice. She opened the first door of the freezer that held the bodies, praying that there was no one inside. It wasn't empty._

_A body laid with a white sheet covering it. She knew that she had no choice. She climbed on top of the body, and closed the door enough that it wouldn't latch. She basically laid on all fours, looking down at the covered person. She didn't know if it was a man or a woman._

_"I'm so sorry, please forgive me for this intrusion." she whispered._

_She heard the door of the morgue being swung open and listened to the footsteps. Then hearing one of them stepping on something that she assumed was one of the tools. She could hear them talking, but couldn't make out of what they were saying._

_The door quickly flung open. She tried to scrunch to the back of the drawer, trying to get away._

_"Please, no." she begged. The arms grabbed her, pulling her out._

"Danny, Danny!" Her brother called out. She closed her eyes, trying to breath. A sharp pain pierced her skin in her right hand.

"Danny, come back to me," her brother called out. She let out a breath, stumbling back where her brother grabbed her. Dropping whatever she had in her hand, making a loud thud.

"It's ok, just breathe. Remember your exercises." Her brother led her to her futon where they sat down.

"Bryan," she finally said after taking a couple of deep breaths, trying to focus. "It happened again, didn't it?" He nodded, taking her hand, opening up her palm where it was stained with blood and her bloody exacto knife laying on the floor where it had landed, leaving a nasty red mark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter #5**

**I do not own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars. My thanks to Lohis for being my beta. Please read and enjoy.**

Bryan laid the last piece of medical tape on her bandaged hand. "I must have held it very tight while I was having a flashback," she said, before letting out a groan, leaning forward, putting her head in her hands.

"It's alright. You are not going to need any stitches," he said. "Why don't you clean up this mess and go to the tracks?" She looked up at him.

"It's Saturday."

"Gee thanks, Einstein." He put the tape in a plastic first aid box then closed it.

"The show is not for another," he said, glancing at his watch, "Six hours. You know that this was probably brought on from stress and anxiety. Go and burn some of it off."

She looked at him, totally surprised of what he was saying, "Burn it off? But the show?"

"You can probably pack your outfit in your backpack along with your sketchbook. You can change at the gallery." She was surprised that Bryan was saying this to her.

"And." she said, knowing that there was more.

"And honestly, I need the peace and quiet to finish the report." he pointed out. She stood up, flexing her injured hand, making sure that she could make a fist.

"Just set your alarm an hour before so you have the time to get to the gallery and get dressed."

* * *

The Biker Mice were already at the track. Limburger's tower was still in progress of being rebuilt_, again_. They guessed it was going to be at least another day or two before that old fish face started up again. So they decided that they might take the opportunity to visit the tracks and started figuring out how to do their show.

"We could do the Catch and Release." Modo suggested.

Throttle shook his head, "The place is too small."

"Crash and Trash #5." Vinnie suggested. "Imagine the fireworks."

"No." the two mice answered firmly.

"Bros, surely there is at least one trick we know that won't burn down the place." Throttle said.

"What about jumps? Let's see if you guys can jump over so many buses." Charley suggested from behind.

"Sweetheart, you're here. Came to watch my smooth moves?" Vinnie flirted to which she rolled her eyes as she parked her white and blue bike beside them.

"Only in your dreams."

Throttle looked around the tracks, trying to convince himself that he was only looking at the layout, figuring out of where people were going to be sitting and could they setup fireworks without burning down the place. But there was a small part of him that was nagging about the mystery driver. Was she going to be here?

He saw the stretch of the tracks that was straight and most importantly, it was away from the citizens.

"Charley-girl, you're right." he called out.

"I know." she replied, "Right about what?" Throttle gathered his team for a football huddle.

Danny had quickly changed to clothes that were not stained with paints and braided her hair before leaving. She pulled up at the admittance booth, turning off her black bike. She stuck her fingers insides her helmet, turning on her hearing aids. They started making a squealing note which was annoying. But she bared them as she showed the girl her pass then pushing her bike inside.

Mr. Riddick was standing out by the bleachers with his clipboard, flipping some papers over and writing some notes down. He saw her where he made a "come here" motion with his finger. She walked her bike up to the old man.

He was about to pull out his notepad when she shook her head, "I don't need it, my bike is turned off. This time, I can hear you," she said, taking off her feather designed helmet. She straightened out her bangs before tucking her helmet underneath her arm.

He smiled, "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you would be busy tonight."

She shrugged her shoulders, "It's Saturday." she said. He nodded, not completely understanding her.

"Actually, everything is already done for tonight, all I have to do is show up. And I was starting to drive Bryan crazy. He kicked me out." The old man smiled, letting out a chuckle.

She slid off her dark blue backpack, holding it in her hand. "I was hoping if it would be okay if I leave my backpack at your office. It has my dress for tonight and I'm afraid that it will get dirty if I leave it out here. And if I could renew my pass please." she said, pointing out to the muddy tracks. He nodded, taking it from her and swinging it over his shoulder.

She noticed that the Biker Mice were there together in a huddle. "They're back." she commented.

Mr. Riddick nodded, "Yeah, they wanted to figure out how to do their show. Were they bothering you last week?" he asked, showing concern.

She shook her head no. "Not really, except they kept calling me Zarley." she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Charley," he corrected her.

"Ah." she said, "That makes more sense. I honestly thought that was their way of greeting each other." Mr. Riddick smiled again.

"I have a feeling that they didn't understand what you meant when you kept tapping your helmet. I was going to get them to stop bugging you after I talked to you."

"It's fine. So what is the pool up to now?"

He dug out his smaller notepad from his jacket pocket, flipping a couple of pages over, "About a $100 dollars. Are you in?" he asked.

She nodded, pulling out a five dollar bill. "Put me down . . . oh . . . say five days." she said. He wrote down her bet, taking her money.

She smiled, "Shouldn't they know about this?" she said, pointing to them.

He shrugged his shoulders, "If they ask, I will tell them. But I don't want them to influence this pool."

She smiled, "So are you going to be there?" she asked.

He nodded, putting his notepad away, "Of course, but I won't be there until later. I need to close up the tracks." Just then, a rider drove by, splattering mud on them both. The old man sighed, wiping the mud from his shirt, while Danny bit her lower lip, bending her head down, trying hard not to laugh.

"I'm sorry." she said, before laughing.

"It's ok." he said. "I was also going to say that I needed to clean up as well, but I guess I just proved my point."

From that comment, Danny just burst into laughter, bending down, grabbing onto his arm.

"I'm sorry, I think it might be my nerves." she said again after she was able to control herself.

"It's ok, but why don't we put your backpack in the office before anything else happens." Danny slid her arm through her helmet before pushing her bike closer to the bleachers. She parked her bike before following him upstairs to his office.

Throttle heard Danny's laughter. He pulled his head up from the huddle, looking around, spotting them talking. He watched as they went upstairs on the bleachers and to his office, closing the door behind them.

A part of the mystery rider was solved since Charley was standing right beside him. But a part of him still nagged about the Limburger's squad paying a visit. Was it really true or not?

Except the only way of proving it was to check the surveillance tapes from the cameras posted all over the tracks. And he knew without a good reason, Mr. Riddick wasn't going to show it to them, assuming he still had them. As far as he knew, the tapes were already erased and it could have been mistaken identities. But he was still curious about the rider.

"So what do you think, bro?" Modo asked.

"Huh, what?" he said, turning his attention back to his group.

"About the routine? Weren't you listening?"

"I'm sorry, I got distracted."

"No doubt, since she's back." Vinnie joked, elbowing the tan mouse in his ribs then pointing to Danny's bike.

Throttle put a smile on his face, going along with the joke, but something inside of him was giving him butterflies in his stomach. He doubted it was his breakfast.

What's wrong with you, he thought to himself. He made a mental note to run a scan on himself when he got back to his hideout to make sure that he wasn't coming down with something. The timing of it was going to be bad.

The last time he remembered of having those feelings was when he first met Carbine. His heart panged with a little sadness. He shook his head.

_No, that was for the best_, he thought to himself. Although he knew that sooner or later, he would have to tell his brothers about them. He was surprised that he had been able to keep it that long from them.

"You ok, bro?" Modo asked, placing his hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get back to the plan. I want to finish it then we can rock and ride."

* * *

The mice rode around the tracks with Charley when Modo's stomach rumbled, causing a few people to take notice. The big strong grey mouse smiled sheepishly and blushed.

Throttle chuckled as he pointed to the hot dog stand. "Let's grab something to eat," he said.

Once they ordered their hot dogs and root beers, they set their trays on a small table beside the hot dog stand that held the condiments for the hotdogs as well plastic containers for the straws and napkins. They stood on one side of the table, leaving the other side clear.

Modo's stomach growled once again. "Oh mama, I cannot wait to dig in." Modo said.

Meanwhile Danny quietly set her tray down at the other side of the table. She looked at them, and then forced herself to look down at her tray, knowing staring at them was rude.

She didn't want to bother them; she just wanted a straw and some ketchup for her hotdog. She wasn't really hungry, but she knew that she should get something in her stomach before tonight and her injured hand was starting to hurt again.

She opened up her palm, seeing a small spot of blood seeping through the bandage. She was going to have to change it soon and probably take some painkillers.

She moved her sketchbook off of her tray, giving herself room. She reached for one of the paper covered straws, but when she leaned back, her elbow hit her sketchbook where it went flying.

It landed opened next to Throttle's boots. He picked it up, seeing the drawing of Mr. Riddick. He smiled, closing it and handing it back to her.

"Oh sorry and thank you." she said, giving the tanned mouse a small smile.

He smiled back, "It's a good drawing. Hey, don't you ride that bike over there?" he asked, pointing to her black bike that was parked next to Vinnie's red bike.

She turned her head, where Throttle saw a tiny machine in her ear. Vinnie noticed too, he was about to point them out with his hand when Charley pushed his hand down and shoved one of his hotdogs in his mouth before he had a chance to speak.

Throttle quietly breathed out a sigh of relief and nodded at Charley, making a mental note to himself to thank her later.

"Yeah, that's it." she answered, turning her attention back, seeing the white mouse had a hot dog stuffed in his mouth. She wasn't sure of what was going on over there.

"I'm Throttle, this is Modo." the brown mouse said, pointing to the grey mouse.

"Howdy ma'am."

"That one is Vinnie."

He pulled out the hotdog out of his mouth and was about to speak, "Vinnie, do not speak with your mouth full of food." Charley said sweetly. Danny wondered what was going on, but she let it go. It was none of her business.

"And of course, this is Charley."

"Charley, Zarley, of course," she said, slapping herself on her forehead. She realized that Mr. Riddick was right.

"Excuse me?" Charley said.

"I'm sorry. They kept calling me Zarley last week; well that is what it sounded like. I thought it was their way of greeting people. I can't hear well over the bikes, and I have to turn these off," she said, pulling one of her hearing aids out.

"They whistle like crazy when I wear my helmet." she explained then putting her hearing aid back in. "Oh I'm Danielle Jacobs, but everyone just calls me Danny."

Throttle smiled where she smiled back. "Well, I didn't mean to bother you; I'm just here to get some ketchup for my hotdog."

"You are not bothering us. In fact, why don't you join us." he offered.

The other two mice looked at their leader, surprised at his offer. They normally kept to themselves.

Danny was surprised at his offer, not really sure of what to say. "Ok." she finally said.

They found a bench a little away from the crowd.

"Are you alright?" Throttle asked, pointing to her bandaged hand. She looked at it, "Yeah, I was cutting up some canvas and my knife slipped."

"Canvas?" Vinnie said.

"Yeah." she started to say, then realizing that the mice may not know what canvas was. "I paint pictures on canvas." she explained.

* * *

Danny was enjoying her time with the mice and Charley when they all heard a cough behind them. Mr. Riddick stood behind them with Danny's backpack over his shoulder.

"Oh shit." Danny said, realizing that she was late. Except she wondered why didn't her alarm on her watch go off.

Nevertheless, she jumped from her bench, "I have to go, but it was nice to meet you." she quickly said.

"Thank you." she said, taking her bag from the old man and starting running down the track.

"Bike." Mr. Riddick called out. She skidded to a stop, realizing that her bike was parked by the stands. She nearly landed in the mud as she turned around, running toward her bike.

"Helmet." he called out. She put on her helmet.

Mr. Riddick turned toward the tracks, "Make way." he called out.

Throttle saw Danny speeding away, not sure of what had just happened. He looked down, seeing her sketchbook lying on her tray.

Picking it up, he got out of his seat, "Danny, you forgot your. . ." he started to call out but it was too late, she was gone.


End file.
